Corner of Martinsville Road

Red earth, upturned,ravaged landgreets me every morning wherean old patch of treesused to stand,overgrown and quiet,a tiny spot of wildnessbetween two busy streets,watching over passing traffic,shade while waiting for the light to change,refuge for city birds and urban squirrels,homeless now.

That patch of trees,older than any councilman,commissioner, or developerwho stood jury and judgeover its fate,is gone now, choppeddown, roots dug up.

Nothing left but red,raw earth,a wounding near the heart of town,waiting for retail space,to erect itselflong beforeany healing can occur.